


Dinner For Two

by FaerieChild



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14465226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaerieChild/pseuds/FaerieChild
Summary: Claire Beauchamp is just trying to get her groceries and get home when some unwelcome attention comes her way. A one-shot modern AU. This is a stand-alone story. Warning for strong language.





	Dinner For Two

**Author's Note:**

> A quick one-shot written for fun. Enjoy.

Claire Beauchamp shook her head and laughed to herself as she offloaded her basket of groceries onto the conveyor belt at the supermarket checkout. A dinner for two meal set, with two bottles of a small batch real ale she had picked out from the impressively large selection.

Nearby a man hovered. “Give us a smile, love!”

The smile fell from Claire’s face. Her eyes rolled to the heavens. Forcing a polite smile on to her face Claire bid the stranger a polite good evening and continued pointedly with minding her own business. Really it was absurd that she kept doing this. Buying two of everything. It would be much more economical to buy for one, but somehow she always felt she got a sympathetic look from the checkout assistant, or she felt eyes of surrounding shoppers watching her unpack her one chicken kiev, her one bottle of ale, her one dessert. She had tried it once after Frank left and vowed never again.

Dinner for two it was. She could eat the rest tomorrow. Eating the same thing two nights in a row had been the norm for a while, anyway. Claire never had been any good at cooking for one. Somehow the quantities always seemed off.

“So, you going home to a boyfriend tonight then or am I about to get lucky?”

Claire couldn’t believe this guy. Some overweight forty-something who had overdosed at the mens cologne counter. “If you don’t mind, I’d just like to do my shopping and get out of here.”

Claire looked at the checkout assistant. Why was it taking so long? It seemed the person in front was disputing the price of a specific item in their large trolley full of goods. Claire was kicking herself now for not going through the self-service checkout no matter that every single time she ended up having an argument with a robot about the weight of her bag. An uncomfortable tingle ran up her spine and Claire turned slowly around to find the guy leaning in close, leering at her and using his arm to block her in. She wondered if it would be unprofessional to just kick him in the bollocks.

“Come on sweetheart, my place is just around the corner. What do you say?”

“No. Thank you.”

“You stuck up bitch. What the fuck’s wrong with your dried up cunt?!”

That did get the checkout assistant’s attention and the attention of several passers by. Although it was far from the first time it had happened, Claire was momentarily shocked into silence and still blocked in by the oaf behind her.

Suddenly there was another man there, a tall man – over six foot – with a startlingly athletic figure. Wearing the kit of a local professional rugby team, the man had long runners legs and the well formed musculature of someone who worked out and ate carefully every day. The rugby shorts showed off his toned glutes, the t-shirt moulded around pectorals and biceps that had seen a lot of protein powder. Slowly, with a glare at the idiot, the stranger pushed past and set down a two-pint carton of semi-skinned milk and a box of tampons beside her basket.

“I got the milk. Was there anything else you needed?” The new man stopped a few inches away and looked straight into her eyes. Blue eyes. Eyes the colour of summer skies. Red hair, cut short. Freckles. High cheekbones, a sharp jaw. Handsome, yes, but just as close and threatening – potentially – as the first man who had harassed her in the queue. For a moment Claire felt on edge until she took in a deep breath and realised what he was doing. He was carefully blocking the man behind, wedging himself in between them to give Claire space. The incomer didn’t try to touch her, didn’t reach out.

Respectful.

Safe.

The red-haired man kept staring at Claire, a question in his eyes as relief welled inside her and she gave the new man a small smile and a nod. “No. Thank you.”

But the leering idiot wasn’t done. 

“Excuse me mate, do you mind?”

“Not especially. No.”

“Well we were having a conversation. What are you, her Dad?”

Slowly, the good samaritan turned around and held out a hand. “Jamie Fraser.”

“I don’t give a fuck who you are mate, the daft bint over there clearly needs a good fucking.” The man tried to push past Jamie to get at Claire, but as soon as the idiot started getting physical Jamie moved. Jamie grabbed the man’s wrist, spun him around and forced it up his back, just as Security came down the line of tills towards them having apparently been summoned by nearby members of staff. Security offered to phone the police, but Claire insisted she didn’t want to press charges and the man was swiftly escorted off the premises.

Now that the threat was gone, the checkout operator began putting Claire’s things through with a bored expression, as if it happened every day. Claire got out her card and paid for the items without any thought, just wanting to get out of there.

Jamie, if that was his real name, blushed slightly when he realised that the woman had gone and bought his items and had no option then but to stand and wait for her. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Neither did you,” Claire pointed out. “Claire Beauchamp.”

“Jamie Fraser. I apologise if I over-stepped the mark,” Jamie offered to carry Claire’s shopping but she turned him down. “You seem like you can handle yourself but sometimes you get a guy who won’t take no for an answer.”

“Tell me about it,” Claire muttered. She pulled out the milk and tampons and handed them over. “So who are those really for?”

“My sister. But her husband’s my best friend and if anyone asks he bought them, ok?”

Claire laughed and they fell into step together, heading out towards the door. “Your secret’s safe with me. Does that mean he owes you now?”

“Aye but I owe him so many and he owes me so many we’ve sort of lost count at this point and my sister Janet, I love her to pieces but she’ll no’ thank me for buying her personal items. Never mind some stranger. Here, let me find my wallet and pay you back.”

“Jamie, I’m a surgeon. I can afford a pint of milk and a box of tampons. And no, you didn’t overstep the mark. You were very courteous and I appreciate it.”

At the door he stopped and looked like he wanted to say something. “The thing is,” Jamie cleared his throat, “It can happen to anybody, really.”

Claire’s eyes locked onto Jamie’s and heard what he was telling her, what he was suggesting without words. Jamie clearly didn’t want to linger on the matter but Claire nodded and Jamie’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile. An understanding, of sorts.

“So, a surgeon?” Jamie said. Claire could tell he sounded impressed.

“So, rugby?” Claire retorted.

“Surgeon definitely sounds more impressive,” Jamie insisted. “Besides, I broke a couple of fingers not that long ago and I’m only just getting back to match fitness.”

A memory triggered in Claire’s mind. “Double fracture, with displacement?” 

“If that’s what you call it when the bones are sticking out at all angles, aye. To be honest I don’t remember much of it. Apparently I passed out from the pain. They weren’t even sure if I could play again but they say the surgeon did an exceptional job. Can’t remember the name, though you’d probably know them. Whoever was on call, I think. They were off duty by the time I came around, unfortunately. Never did get a chance to say thank you.”

Claire swallowed a large lump in her throat.

“Well,” Jamie continued, “It was nice meeting you, Claire Beauchamp.” He stopped and held out his hand.

Claire stopped too and held out her hand. “May I look at it?” She asked quietly.

Jamie Fraser held his hand still and then nodded. Claire took hs damaged hand into her palm. The support clearly still visible, the pink of the new scar tissue standing out against his alabaster-white skin dotted with tiny red freckles that matched his hair.

“I think any surgeon would be proud of that,” Claire declared. Stitches out. Fingers more or less straight. Healing nicely. That should be it, Claire knew. She should leave now, but something held her back. Claire didn’t like the idea of walking away and never seeing this man, Jamie, ever again. “Are you still having check-ups?”

“No, it’s mostly all down to the club medicals now.”

Inside, Claire’s heart leaped but she held her composure and nodded, carefully. Maybe she just needed a little something to help her courage. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in going for a drink sometime?”

Jamie looked elated and then confused and then appeared to give himself a talking to and found his tongue. “Aye. Aye, I’d like that.”

Claire smiled and they exchanged numbers.

“I’d better-” Jamie waved vaguely, “I’m going to be late for practice.”

“Right.”

Jamie didn’t move though. He took a moment to pause, to map her face with his eyes, to memorise the precise shade of whisky in her eyes, the shape of her nose, the way her hair curled about her ears and then shoved his hands deep into the pocket of his shorts and turned away with a wee grin to himself.

Claire shook her head and watched him go. Maybe today wasn’t such a write-off after all.

**Author's Note:**

> It is customary when I post one-shots that I get requests to continue the story. I would like to reiterate that this was written as a stand alone one-shot and will remain as such. Thank you for reading.


End file.
